Sleep Well, My Little Robin
by The One With Doll Eyes
Summary: It seemed as if Nightwing was frozen, with a child's smile on his face, watching the clock tick down. 3...2...1. This is the story, not of Nightwing's death, but of what happened to Batman after his son died. Major Character death. One-shot.


Nightwing, Dick Grayson, was alone in his own city, Bludhaven, chasing a bank robber. He corned the man in an abandoned weapons factory. The man pulled a knife out and lunged at Nightwing. They both clawed at each other like two cats, hissing and huffing, until Nightwing felt blood drip down his shoulder. Ignoring it, he forced the robber down to his knees. "Huh. You're holding back...Dick Grayson." Eyes widening, Nightwing spat, "You're more clever than I thought."

"Think whatever you like, Dickie." Then, Nightwing saw it; the bomb strapped to the robber's chest. It seemed as if the hero was frozen, with a child's smile on his face, watching the clock tick down. _3...2...1._

* * *

Batman stood in front of the remains of the abandoned weapons factory. Blüdhaven's head of police called him through Commissioner Gordon when Nightwing's body was found. The small squad found bodies of homeless people in the building, and only fractions of the man who wore the bomb around his chest. Nightwing's body was spared from severe burning, unlike others, but was partially crushed under the falling ceiling, otherwise the body was…just that, a body. A body that Batman, or Bruce Wayne for that matter, never hoped to find. The Dark Knight turned his head to look at Nightwing, strapped to the gurney….No, not Nightwing. The body was not Nightwing, nor was the body Dick Grayson. _This body_ , Batman thought, _is just a shell. A shell that looked like his son, but was not him anymore._ Pulling him from his dark thoughts was the sound of gravel crunching. He didn't have to turn to know members of the Justice League were behind him.

"Oh, gods." Wonder Woman gasped, no doubt looking at Nightwing's shell. Batman felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Green Arrow, squeezing the Dark Knight's shoulder, with a somber look on his face. The caped crusader nodded at him, thanking him in his own way. Superman and some of the others opened their mouths to speak, but stopped, closing them, when Batman raised his gloved hand, walking over to the body that once held his son's spirit. Lowering his large hand to Nightwing's forehead, brushing back murky hair, he whispers, "Dormi bine, micul meu Robin."* Gently, he kissed the cooling skin beneath his hand. His lips move fondly at sight of the smile playing on his son's lips. As he unhooks the straps keeping the body in place, nobody stops him, except one, because they know whoever tries to stop him will end up with a batarang in his heart. A young man, low ranking and new to the crime division, calls, "That body is evidence."

Blüdhaven's Chief of Police quickly tells the rookie to shut up. Lifting up the lifeless body in a bridle hold, Batman turns slowly, careful not to harm the body any more than it is. " _That body_? Is that how you would talk about a family member's dead body?" Batman stressed the words slowly, growling out the words _dead body_. He doesn't wait for a response. He doesn't need, or want, one. Walking to the Bat Mobile, lovingly named by his beautiful son, loudly enough for everyone present to hear, but somehow softly, the knight says, "Just let me be with my son."

* * *

As soon as he was away from everyone, in an ally, with the covering of the Bat Mobile pulled up, over, and locked securely, Batman pulled his mask off his head. Leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, the Batman, the Dark Knight, cried. He glanced at his son's, his baby's, body, which was buckled in the passenger's seat. Noticing the blood staining the blue outline of a bird on Dick's chest, he pulled a pouch, holding a wet piece of cloth, out of a small compartment, which held a health bar, a bottle of water, and the medical supplies Bruce knew how to use. Dick had dubbed such "Bruce's Emergency Dad Kit." Bruce smiled as he remembered with tear-filled eyes the first time Dick had said the name. Gently, he pressed the damp cloth across the blood stain, restoring the bright blue to its natural state.

* * *

Bruce walked down the hallway to his son's old bedroom after he placed the body on a medical table in the Bat Cave, handing over everything to Alfred. The older man had insisted, and Bruce didn't feel like fighting, in any form or fashion. Slowly, quietly, he opened the door, as if trying not to disturb anyone. On the bed were two stuffed toys. One dawning a black cape and cowl, with a frown, while the other was green and red, with a smile. Bruce smiled at the two dolls. He remembered when the toy companies started making Robin dolls, when his baby was ten years old, a year after first becoming Robin. Dick was so happy when Bruce came home with the toy. As the boy hugged his father, the child whispered, "Now Daddy Bats has a baby bird."

Reaching for Batman with his right hand, and Robin with his left, he sits on the bed. He rubs his thumb across the worn-out batman doll's face. In one fluid movement, Bruce dashes the doll against the farthest wall from himself. He cradles the robin doll to his chest as he lays down on his side, facing away from the batman doll. He smells something that he can only define as his son. He buries himself, under the covers, in the bed. Suddenly, he remembers what Dick said a few days after Bruce had given him the robin doll. "I already have the batman toy. He protects me. You should have someone to protect you, too." Dick said as he handed Bruce the robin toy.

Bruce clutched harder to the robin doll, muttering apologizes into the pillow as he cried himself to sleep.

When Dick Grayson's funeral took place, many people showed up, however none of them were media reporters who didn't care that they were twisting the image of a dead nineteen year old man. Among the people who had shown up were Dick's friends from Blüdhaven's and Gotham's police force and some members of the Justice League who knew of Dick's true identity. Alfred stood by Bruce. The two comforting the other in their own way. If anyone noticed Bruce going to the casket after the funeral and placing a batman doll in his son's hands as he whisper a goodbye before kissing his forehead, no one commented.

No one commented when the Gotham villains were found in Arkham Asylum shaking, staring into space, after Nightwing's death.

No one commented when Batman paralyzed men who looked like Nightwing's killer after discovering the identity of the man.

No one commented when Batman was found dead on Dick Grayson's grave with a knife in his back, clutching a robin doll to his chest.

* * *

*(Romanian) Sleep well, my little robin

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